Oh what a birthday!

[Benjamin]

Oh what a birthday! To muse like a child

in the empty park, back and forth upon a swing.

To suck bulls-eyes again and sense wood

fires and peat

in the changing haze.

Wince: at autumnal flurried thoughts, that scatter off

with birds, as a gate squeals on dry hinges and clangs;

but my pendulum

continues

its troll between heaven and earth.

 

Hear the Polish girls trill, "Carra vash sir?"

Touting their smiles on a supermarket car park,

leathers and cloths a-swirl round bin carts.

Bubbling, wet

and so far from home;

they seek a warmth and kindness from cold passers-by,

whose hostile looks cannot deny a sharp disdain.

"Bloody foreigners!

Go back home!"

They'd love to shout, but daren't call out.

 

And as they sink into their ordered lives

a dank smell of rotting leaves on the forest floor,

morphs from yellow, brown and gold; squirrels

quick and grey

forage through the day

while twittering migrants gather in half-bare trees.

And we could fly to where our minds so freely soar,

a whisper away

from the sun;

if only we had their wings and strength.

 

But leaves stretch like an ill-fitting toupee

on the draughty common's moribund brow; where dogs

and children once romped in summer's throng.

Drank sunlit

joy in endless days

till some dark prelate loosed a cabal in their place

(or so it seems). And nothing now will be the same,

for the clocks all go

back today,

and shorter days bring sombre thoughts.

 

The yellow lights offset impending gloom

in houses, with curtains agape,where children play

warm games. And flickering coloured screens,

describe well

how the times have changed.

Gas-light to hi-tec in the space of a lifetime.

But swings and roundabouts remain the same as the

birthdays come and go;

and bulls-eyes

never seem to lose their appeal.

[badger11]

But leaves stretch like an ill-fitting toupee

 

A most original image B.!

 

badge

[Benjamin]

Thanks Badge. Having an October birthday tends to bring a certain annual mood. :-) B.

[Larsen M. Callirhoe]

interesting imagery word play here. i enjoyed this n a few levels. the imagery the occassion, the scenary of that time frame makes this poem really stand out amongst the over 2 dozen aproxiamately poems i have read of yours. excellent job on this one. my second favorite of yours.

 

victor

[tonyv]

Very well composed, Geoff. Each of the middle three verses delivers a welcome shift of thought that somehow coincides with the previous and the next. From the car wash people to the squirrels "ordered lives" to the blanket covering of leaves where before there was summer grass, I lose myself in this one ... and that's not a bad way to be.

 

Tony

 

PS -- and Happy Birthday!

[dedalus]

Pwhoo!! The language is outrageously good but the line-breaks?

I would like to hear this poem as an audio.

The visual appearance on the screen is so ... arbitrary!

I mean, just look at it!!

Once you lose the flow you lose your meaning.

 

OK, so I'm going to re-arrange it for you.

Love it, hate it, resent it, who cares?

At least look at the changes and think why they're there:

Oh what a birthday! To muse like a child

in the empty park, back and forth upon a swing.

To suck bulls-eyes again and sense wood

fires and peat in the changing haze. Wince:

 

 

at autumnal flurried thoughts, that scatter off

with birds, as a gate squeals on dry hinges and clangs;

but my pendulum

continues its troll

between heaven and earth.

 

Hear the Polish girls trill, "Carra vash sir?"

Touting their smiles on a supermarket car park,

leathers and cloths a-swirl round bin carts.

Bubbling, wet, and so far from home;

they seek a warmth and kindness from cold passers-by,

whose hostile looks cannot hide a sharp disdain.

"Bloody foreigners! Go back home!"

They'd love to shout, dare not call out.

 

And as they sink into their ordered lives

a dank smell of rotting leaves on the forest floor,

morphs from yellow, brown and gold; squirrels

quick and grey forage through the day

while twittering migrants gather in half-bare trees.

And we could fly to where our minds

so freely soar a whisper away

from the sun; if only we had

their wings and strength.

 

But leaves stretch, an ill-fitting toupee

on the draughty common's moribund brow;

where dogs and children once romped in summer's

Throng. Drank sunlit joy in endless days

until a dark prelate loosed a cabal in their place

(or so it seems). And nothing now will be the same,

for the clocks will go back today.

And shorter days bring sombre thoughts.

 

The yellow lights offset impending gloom

in houses, with curtains agape,where children play

warm games. And flickering coloured screens,

describe well how the times have changed.

Gas-light to hi-tech in the space of a lifetime.

But swings and roundabouts remain the same

as birthdays come and go;

and bulls-eyes

never seem to lose appeal.

[Benjamin]

Victor. My thanks for reading. I've posted 33 poems on this site to date. I try and vary the content and your comments are appreciated.

 

Tony. Thanks.Having an October birthday, I'm keenly aware of the passage of time especially in these autumn years of my life.

 

Brendan. I started writing this as a frame-work of verse with syllabic lines of 10/12/9/3/5/12/12/5/3/8. The linebreaks probably would work better in a shorter poem which is deliberately vague in meaning. I started writing this however, whilst in a certain mood and just kept adding to it whenever the mood returned. I appreciate you taking the time to reformat this and will copy and study carefully your suggested amendments. Cheers, Ben.